


Bump in the Night

by Kangofu_CB, Remsyk



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Cocktail Friday, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Vampires, Weird Courtship Rituals, Werewolves, a love story for the ages, shitpost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 02:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remsyk/pseuds/Remsyk
Summary: Trowa just wanted to have a nice hike in the woods and relax. Instead, every night he's been pestered by something or someone just outside his camp. But his curious stalker is about to get way more than they bargained for.





	Bump in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This work would not exist without our lovely muse, Maevemauvaise, who brings us the best ideas and then coerces us with praise and suggestions until something like this is brought to life. She's the best <3
> 
> This fic was a ton of fun to write and I don't think either of us made it very far without laughing our butts off, so we hope you get the same enjoyment reading as we did writing.

The first night, Trowa had basically ignored the noises.

 

The crunch of leaves and snap of twigs that told him he wasn’t alone.

 

Of course, no one was  _ alone _ in the forest, but he recognized the signs that something out there was more than a little bit interested in his campsite.  He wrote it off as an animal that first night - a deer, maybe, or a coyote. Something large and curious, but not particularly dangerous.  Or at least, not particularly dangerous to Trowa who, for a lot of reasons, was accustomed to a sort of mingled curiosity and respect from animals. He was also accustomed to the habits of the creatures of the forest, because he spent a lot of time there, at least a few days every month.

 

The second night, he was a bit less blase about the whole thing.

 

Trowa never  _ saw _ anything in the surrounding woods, even though he could see quite well in the dark, thank you very much, but he could  _ hear _ things.  Mostly, he could hear the tell-tale signs that something was out there, just beyond the circle of firelight, and it was circling around his campsite, almost prowling, in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. 

 

He got the distinct impression that something was  _ watching _ him.  

 

Piling a few more logs on the fire, brightening the campsite area, he decided to wait whatever it was out.  Sometimes he drew a bit more attention than usual, maybe because the animals sensed something a little different about him, and this was probably more of the same.  But he wasn’t going to take any chances.

 

Instead, he kept his fire going long into the night, and only when the sun was starting to brighten the sky, the eastern horizon brightening almost imperceptibly, did the sensation of being watched recede.  And only when his senses told him he was, finally, quite alone, did Trowa retreat into his tent to sleep.

 

Tomorrow night, if his visitor returned, they were going to get a  _ very _ unpleasant surprise.

 

*

Quatre was curious by nature. For as long as he could remember, he had loved to people watch, a fact that hadn’t changed despite how much he had. 

But he loved to watch the hikers, watch them struggle as he didn’t have to, but this one, this one was different.

He  _ smelled  _ different, and not just because he was his favorite blood type. The animals in the area seemed to sense the difference too, giving him a wide berth as he made his way through the forest. The first night, he had been content to simply watch, to try to figure out what made this one different from the rest. 

It had been rather boring.

The second night, he’d wandered around, not bothering to hide his progress, gauging the man’s reaction. Quatre always got a kick out of scaring the hikers, a past time that was especially rewarding when the next set shared ghost stories based on the previous hikers’ experiences.

This time, however, the man seemed content to just, sit. He added logs to the fire and just sat around, hardly reacting or even moving as Quatre made more and more of a racket.

After making a few rounds around the camp, Quatre huffed and abandoned his attempts to scare the hiker. If he wanted to just sit around like a bump on a log, he had better things to do.

He’d have to rethink his strategy, and come up with a game plan for tomorrow night.

*

Trowa slept most of the day away, unsurprisingly.  It had been his intention to take it easy, anyway, knowing that the coming night was going to be eventful, but he didn’t wake until late in the afternoon, when the sun was already starting to drop below the treeline and cast long shadows, the heat of the day giving way to a cool, crisp evening.

His favorite kind.

He packed the campsite up quickly, with the ease of long practice, and consulted the battered map he kept in his backpack pocket. 

Originally, he’d planned to spend the day hiking over relatively easy terrain to a small, unpopular campsite closer to the mountains and the river, where he was unlikely to run into anyone else - it was fairly late in the season for hikers at this point anyway, but best not to take any chances.

Unfortunately, his planned campsite was still a solid distance away, and he hadn’t the time to hike all the way there in the remaining daylight.  The moon would be up fairly early as well, which would provide more light but hindered him in other, more significant ways. Fortunately, there was another clearing, one he’d visited before, only a couple of hours from his current site, especially if he kept a quick pace, that was still secluded enough for his purposes, though not as close to the water.  He  _ liked _ be next to the water, dammit, and he was annoyed all over again at his late night visitor, keeping him from his rest.

Now he was  _ hopeful _ that whatever or whoever it was did come back, because they deserved the surprise he had planned.

Shouldering his backpack with a sigh, he set off in the direction of the small campsite he’d decided on, his long legs eating up ground quickly, and he actually arrived a bit early, just before darkness totally settled in, which gave him ample time to set up his tent and shovel out a small pit for a fire.  His stomach rumbled about halfway through, and he pulled a protein bar out of his bag, shoving it between his teeth as he continued digging and then setting up for a slow-burning campfire.

He wanted this one to burn all night, but he wasn’t planning to be around to make sure it stayed that way.

*

Quatre bolted out the door, hastily buttoning his shirt as he ran down the familiar path, cursing his luck. Of course he had stayed up until nearly sunrise trying to figure out a new game plan, so of course he woke up late that evening, long after the sun had set. He ran his fingers through his hair, glad they didn’t tangle too much.

He stopped long enough to grab a quick snack, then pressed on, wiping his mouth as he walked. He hated eating on the run; it was difficult to clean up properly and he didn’t have a change of clothes if anything dripped.

Even after all these years, it was still a bitch to clean up after a messy meal.

He slowed as he approached the campsite, sniffing the air as he crept closer. He frowned when the old, smokey smell of an abandoned fire greeted him instead. After taking a quick peek from his perch, he huffed in annoyance and stomped into the clearing, hands on his hips.

He left the guy alone for one stupid day, and he was gone. 

Quatre turned in a circle, hoping to catch the scent, but everything was covered in the ashes of the fire. He made his way to the perimeter, walking slowly until he paused, a smile blooming on his face.

There, and not too long ago, either.

Determined to put his plan into action, he followed the scent into the woods, reviewing his steps in his head. He was dead set on making this work tonight, one way or the other.

*

The noises were back.

Trowa barely stopped the smirk on his face, containing it to a bare twitch of his lips.  He had the fire burning, low and steady, with a nice solid log that should last most, if not all, of the night.  Everything of particular value to him was zipped in his backpack, which was also zipped in his tent, and he was dressed in loose shorts and a t-shirt, having long since lost interest in ruining his more expensive clothes.

He listened as the crackling noises of the watcher made their way around his hastily-arranged campsite, until they were nearly behind him, and then he stood and stretched.

 

The timing could not have been more perfect, honestly, though the longer Trowa had waited, the more sure he had become that whatever or whoever it was wasn’t going to find him in the new spot, after all. 

He’d been surprised to find he was mildly disappointed.

But it was short-lived.  The watcher was here, and the moon was mere moments from breaking over the horizon.

A twig snapped, just a few feet away, and Trowa turned, surprised to find a slim, blonde man, leaning oh-so-casually against a tree, eyes glinting in the firelight.

Or, maybe not from the firelight, since Trowa was standing between him and the flickering flames, casting the man into shadow, and yet Trowa could still distinctly see the bright flashes of his eyes moving as he looked Trowa over from head to toe.

Trowa had time to think ‘oh shit’-

And then the moon broke over the horizon.

*

The scent was getting stronger, a combination of smoke and that distinct tone, the one that drew him in like a moth to a flame. With each step, his excitement grew, until he was nearly buzzing from it.

This was it. He hadn’t lost him, though it had taken longer than expected to catch up. Quatre could just make out the glow of the low-burning fire through the brush. He peeked through the leaves, getting his bearings, and made his way around the camp.

He glanced around, searching for the right tree- 

There. 

Okay, he just had to stick to the plan, and everything would work out just fine. He could do this. It had been a while, but that was okay. He’d listened to a lot of hikers over the years, many of them couples, and he’d picked up a few lines here or there, at least, the ones that seemed to work.

It was hard to tell when they were already together.

He ran his fingers through his hair one last time, shook out his shoulders and smoothed his shirt, glancing over it quickly to make sure it was still in pristine condition. He needed to make the best first impression, after all.

Quatre nodded firmly to himself, then leaned against the tree in what he hoped was a relaxed and suave fashion, arms crossed loosely across his chest. He schooled his features, suppressing any nerves that threatened to make him twitch, and locked eyes with the hiker.

He watched him long enough to register the surprise on his face as the moon broke across the camp.

Quatre blinked as the not-so-normal hiker suddenly  _ shifted _ , hunching and stretching in ways he could never unsee, until a very different creature stood before him, panting in the moonlight.

His jaw dropped as his arms went slack, the minor shift enough to send him sliding across the tree bark, catching on his shirt. He yelped as he took a rather ungraceful step forward, arms windmilling as he fought for balance. He barely stopped himself from face planting in front of the creature, and quickly straightened and cleared his throat.

“Hi.”

*

He cocked his head at the strange human curiously, padding forward a few steps.  Took a sniff.

_ Not human _ .

Backing away slowly, he growled, hackles raised, at the other creature.  It looked human. A pretty human. Smelled weird, not human. Bloody. Bloody was ok, but not human maybe not ok.

“Hi.”

The blonde took a step toward him.  Trowa took another step back, still growling.  He bared his teeth.

“Oh, sorry, sorry. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything. Um…. I’m Quatre.”

Trowa wrinkled his nose, but tucked his teeth back in.  What was a quatre? It smelled funny, whatever it was. He sidestepped the fire - hot fire, he remembered, burns - and snuffled around the campsite.  Could smell himself - his other self. Small animals. Oh! A rabbit. He turned away from the weird not-human, following the smell.

Rabbits were good.  Not weird. 

He headed for the trees, following the good rabbit smell.  The not-human seemed harmless. He was hungry.

“Going already? I didn’t think I was that bad. I mean, all things considered, I’m not that bad, but I could be wrong. I haven’t really had anyone say otherwise, but you’re the first one I’ve tried to talk to, and look what happened!”

Trowa looked back at the man.  He smelled sad now, in addition to weird.  Trowa pondered him for a long moment, then bounded into the woods.

He was back after just a little while, and the blonde man was sitting on his other self’s log, staring dejectedly into the fire.

Trowa dropped a rabbit at the man’s feet, and looked up at him.  Rabbit good. But stupid. Easy to find. Maybe would make not-human happy.  Rabbits made Trowa happy. And squirrels.

“Did you find that for me? Is that what you were doing? Of course, you must be hungry, I mean, something as drastic as going from a hot dude to a dog is kinda drastic.”

Trowa was not a  _ dog _ .  Stupid not-human.  He turned his back on the man and looked up at the moon and howled, as was appropriate for not a  _ dog _ .  He turned back to the not-human and glared at him.

“Oh,  _ ooohhh _ ! Oh my gosh, I am  _ so _ sorry. I didn’t mean- I haven’t- Look, it’s been a while since I’ve talked to anyone, let alone a  _ werewolf _ , and oh my gosh, I can’t believe- It’s so obvious.”

Trowa snorted.  It couldn’t have been  _ that _ obvious, he’d only turned into a giant wolf - not a  _ dog _ \- geeze where was this guy from?

Trowa nudged the rabbit closer to the not-human quatre.  Maybe feeding it would make it smarter. He laid down on the ground and stared at the quatre meaningfully.

Eat the rabbit.  Rabbit is good. 

“For me? Really? I mean, I guess. I don’t want to let it go to waste. I prefer mine a little fresher- NOT that this isn’t fresh or anything.”

Trowa eyed the  _ perfectly good and delicious _ rabbit, and then the quatre.  

Fine.

He climbed to his feet with a huff, snatching the rabbit up and crunching it down - more quickly than he would have liked - before bounding off into the forest again.

This time he brought a rabbit back  _ alive _ , and dropped it in the quatre’s lap, before sitting back on his haunches and staring at him expectantly.

“Oh. Um. Thanks, I guess. You didn’t have to; I could have caught one myself, but thank you.”

Trowa looked from the squirming rabbit, to the clearly uncomfortable quatre, and huffed.  He flopped down on the ground at the quatre’s feet and pointedly ignored both of them so the stupid not-human could let the rabbit go.

Trowa could always eat it later.

“It’s not like I don’t want it. I ate before I got here.”

Trowa huffed into the grass at the quatre’s feet, but kept ignoring him until he heard the stupid rabbit bound away.

This not-human was not very bright.

And what was he anyway?  Trowa scooted until he could shove his nose into the not-humans ankles and snuffed at him curiously.  He smelled familiar, but not. Like a human, but different. Old. He didn’t look old. And like rabbit but not the rabbit Trowa gave him.

It was weird.

Trowa stood up again, snuffling closer, sticking his muzzle all sorts of places.

Why did he smell like that?  Even his ears smelled weird.

“Whoa! Hold up, I didn’t have this planned for a first date!”

The not-human quatre smelled interesting, and he seemed nice, but Trowa was still hungry.  He gave the not-human one last good sniff, so he could remember the scent, nipped his fingers in a playful warning, and then padded out of the circle of firelight into the forest.

He had a rabbit to catch.  Again.

Stupid quatre.

*

Quatre stared after the large wolf, stunned. All his plans, carefully crafted, had been dashed in the blink of an eye. He had spent hours psyching himself up, going over what he would say and how he would say it, only for the guy he’d been chasing for days to turn into a  _ wolf _ .

What the  _ fuck _ .

He heaved a sigh, replaying the were’s poking and prodding, bringing him rabbits to eat. He had appreciated the gesture, but draining a rabbit under the watchful eyes of a large creature was hardly romantic. Even with the perfect moonlit night and smoldering campfire.

He rubbed his arms, remembering the cool press of doggie nose against his skin, there and  _ other _ places. He would blush if he could. Of all the ways this evening could have gone, this hadn’t even been on the radar.

Actually, when had he last seen a were, of any type? 

There hadn’t been any in the area for years, a century at least. 

Quatre glanced out into the forest, hoping that maybe he could catch a glimpse of him returning, but the woods remained still. After a quick check of his internal clock, he decided to call it a night. It would take longer to get back home, and he needed time to think over this little revelation.

He really didn’t want to consider that he was into furries.

*

Trowa woke up groggy and sore.  

Not an unusual state of being after a full moon.  

He glanced around, taking in the intact campsite, the fire that had long since burned out.  The fact that he never made it inside the tent and was currently curled up on the ground on a pile of his tattered clothes, completely naked.

Well, that wasn’t a first either.  He sighed, climbing to his feet.

On the plus side, he was less disgusting than usual - though he  _ usually _ camped by the river for this very reason, thanks a  _ lot _ rando in the woods following him around.

He considered moving to his original preferred campsite, but it was already mid-afternoon, and he was already tired, and there was going to be another night of the change, and frankly he didn’t have the energy.

And, a small part of him thought to himself, the blonde might not be able to find him again if he moved.  Though he’d found him just fine the night before.

The problem with being a werewolf was that while in his wolf form, he had the critical thinking ability of a four year old, but a return to his human form gave him startling clarity into his wolfish activities.  Trowa groaned to himself as he thought about his encounter with the good looking and surprisingly accepting blond - Quatre - who’d stumbled into his campsite, quite literally.

Trowa had been expecting to give a teenager, or maybe a random mountain lion, a bit of a fright.  Another scary story to tell in the mountains.

Instead he’d found a strangely accepting, extremely attractive blond man.

And proceeded to try and coerce him with both dead and live animals.

Jesus Christ, this was why he was single.

Unzipping the tent and digging out his backpack, he procured the baby wipes he kept for just such occasions, giving himself as thorough a wipedown as possible, and pulling on more essentially-disposable shorts and a t-shirt.  He had a couple of hours until sundown, and he fully intended to eat an actual meal before then. If the blonde came back, at least he’d be less apt to try and hunt up the local wildlife as a courting gift, for fuck’s sake.

The sun came and went, darkness fell, and no sign of the cute blonde.  Trowa sighed, feeling the call of the moon creeping up his spine. Guess turning into a 100 plus pound wolf was enough to scare even a non-human away.

He’d been looking forward to finding out just what the other man was.

*

_ Fuck. _

Quatre ran out the door, again, cursing his luck and his stubborn streak. He knew he should have just taken that poor hiker’s alarm clock when he had the chance, but his stupid conscience got in the way, and now he was late. 

Again.

Once again, he was forced to eat on the fly, snatching a fox this time, enough to sustain him through, hopefully, a rather tame evening. It was hard to tell.

He had been up late searching through his library for any information regarding werewolves and wolves in general. He’d found mentions of members of a pack bringing others food, usually to ones they were courting or a mate. 

That little bit of information had made the werewolf’s sniff session a bit more intimate.

Quatre stopped and wrapped his bundle more securely, cursing his sentiment. He couldn’t bring something smaller, nooo, this had to be impressive. 

Sometimes he hated his romantic side.

He made it to the camp quicker than the night before, hoping he wouldn’t have to spend part of the night hunting him down again. A quick sniff confirmed he was still there, though the scent was covered with an odd smell, almost… Baby powder? 

Quatre shrugged to himself, dismissing the oddity. It didn’t change the underlying scents, and once again, he ran over his game plan, hobbled together, broken, yet still salvageable. Maybe this time, he would be able to carry on a decent conversation. 

Hopefully.

*  

The quatre was back.  Trowa could smell him.  He almost wagged his tail but he was  _ not a dog _ so no.  No wagging.

And he had something else.  Trowa could smell it. Something interesting.  What was it? 

He waited impatiently by the fire, sitting firmly on his haunches and  _ not wagging his tail.   _ At all.  No wagging.

“I’m back! Oh, a wolf again. Okay, no problem, I can work with that. Are you going to hunt again tonight? I ate before I got here, so if you need to, go on ahead. I’ll be fine here.”

Trowa snorted, pawing at the ground with one paw.

His other self had eaten before, so he was only kind of hungry.  Not too hungry. He could wait. He wanted the thing. What was the thing he wanted it it smelled good.

The quatre sat back down on the log from the night before and Trowa shuffled over to him, giving him another quick sniff.  Still weird and not human. No rabbit this time. Fox, maybe?

Weird.

Trowa shoved his face in the thing.  The smell good thing. It smelled  _ better _ up close.

“Impatient, aren’t you! Here, just let me unfold it.”

The blond not-man unfurled a large blanket on the ground by his feet.  Trowa circled it a few times to sniff it some more before bounding on top of it and rolling around all over it.  A good blanket. Maybe the not-human was not so stupid. He brought nice blanket things. It was soft and squishy.  And warm. Trowa liked it.

He licked the quatre’s hand.

Not as a good as a rabbit, but still, a good thing.

It smelled like the not-human.  But without the fox smell. Or rabbit smell.  Just the quatre smell.

The not-human reached out, hesitantly, and Trowa froze, watching him warily.  He stroked his fingers, gingerly, over Trowa’s fur, near his ears. Trowa leaned into the touch.  Touch good. Not hurt. The scratching was nice too. He flopped onto the blanket, rolling over and getting comfortable.  Much better than the ground. And cleaner. His other self didn’t like it when he got dirty, he knew. Didn’t care, got dirty anyway, but the blanket was nice. Better than the dirt ground.

Maybe the quatre would stay for a while.  He had been gone when Trowa came back the night before, with a squirrel.  Maybe the not-human didn’t like rabbit. Which was stupid rabbit was good but maybe he would like squirrel better but he was gone when Trowa came back so he ate the squirrel.  

Oh.

Maybe the quatre liked foxes better, maybe that’s why he smelled like fox.  Fox harder to hunt, more fun. Later, Trowa would get a fox. Even though it smelled bad.

After the scratching.

*

Quatre smiled as the large wolf leaned into his touch, nearly dislodging him from his seat. He adjusted his feet and leaned forward, using both hands to scratch at his head, until he rolled over on the blanket, legs up in the air.

“Doesn’t matter that you’re a wolf, you love getting scratched just as much as any dogs I’ve met,”  Quatre chuckled, scratching the were’s belly. He got down off his seat, getting down on his knees for better leverage, scratching with more force as the wolf rolled, tongue lolling out of his head.

“You’re all talk,” he laughed. “You’re never going to live this down. Who knew you were so sensitive?”

He stopped as he leaned back, readjusting before his legs cramped underneath him. The wolf immediately rolled to his feet, shoving his face under Quatre’s hands, demanding more.

“Okay, okay, give me a second,” Quatre rubbed along the wolf’s face, leading back to scratch his ears again. “You’re a pushy guy. I wonder if you’re like this all the time.” Quatre pursed his lips, squinting at the wolf’s face. “Probably, if I had to guess. Or maybe you’re the strong, silent type who doesn’t like to let people see his sensitive side.”

He shrugged, resuming his scratching before his foreman demanded more from him. Once again, the were rolled over, and Quatre picked up where he left off. After a few minutes, he hummed thoughtfully.

“I need to call you something. I’m sure you have a name. Maybe it’s on your stuff.” Quatre turned his head, craning to catch a glimpse of the rest of the camp without upsetting his companion.

“You probably won’t let me take a break to check. So demanding.”

*

Trowa watched as the quatre got up from beside him, brushing off his pants, and eased his way over to the tent.  He cocked his head and made a vague whining noise, but the blond just glanced back at him and continued on.

If he’d been a human he’d have shrugged.

Tent boring.  Nothing good in there.  Just his other self’s stupid stuff.  He lolled back onto the blanket, nudging the edges around to his satisfaction.  After a few minutes, the not-human returned, settling himself on the log to resume his scratching.

Scratching nice.

“I can’t do this all night, you know. My arms are going to fall off at this rate.”

Trowa snorted, shoving his face further into the quatre’s chest, until he fell off his precariously balanced perch onto the ground with an ‘oof’.  Putting his paws up on the log, he stared over it at the not-human’s surprised face.

Oops.

Trowa moved around behind the log to nose at him.  He didn’t smell hurt. 

Maybe food would help.  Trowa was getting hungry anyway. 

Once the quatre levered himself back up onto the log, Trowa trotted into the forest in search of something tasty.  Maybe fox. The other liked fox, he thought.

When he got back, though, the quatre was gone.  Trowa hadn’t found a fox - stupid sneaky foxes - but he found a bigger, fatter rabbit, and he brought it back still squirmy even but he was alone.  He sniffed all around the campsite but he couldn’t find where the other had gone.

Stupid quatre.

Trowa ate the rabbit anyway, before curling up on the blanket to sleep.

*

Quatre strolled home, smiling to himself. The night had gone much better than he expected, not that he ever expected to spend it scratching a werewolf’s belly. At least the blanket had gone over well.

He had debated for way longer than was probably normal about bringing it in the first place, wondering if he would come off as too forward or maybe even offensive. What did a werewolf need with a blanket? 

In any case, it had been a night well spent, and pending any revelations he absolutely had to deliberate over, he planned on getting to sleep early so he could make it to the campsite  _ before _ moonrise. Maybe then he could get the were’s name, have a short conversation with him, and politely look away when he-

Quatre shuddered and made a face. 

Or, maybe he’d wait until after the fact.

*

Trowa woke up less cold and uncomfortable than usual.  He sat up and looked around, unsurprised to find himself outside again, but shocked to discover he was lying on some sort of expensive-looking, fluffy wool blanket.  He ran his hand over the soft material as his brain caught up on his overnight activities.

Jesus christ on a cracker, he let whatever the fuck Quatre was  _ rub his belly _ .  Had, in fact, practically begged for him to do so.

He his his face in his hands with a groan.

For fuck’s sake.

And then he’d gone fox hunting.  Trowa hated foxes. They stank. They tasted bitter.  And they were fucking clever, which was annoying because he wasn’t  _ actually _ an animal and he shouldn’t be getting outsmarted by an overgrown rodent.

Fucking foxes.

With a disgruntled sigh he stood up and stretched, taking in the light and trying to figure out the time.  Early afternoon, he thought. Perfect. Enough time to hike to the river and rinse off like a semi-normal person, anyway.  Leaning over, he picked up the blanket and carefully shook it out, folding it neatly and tossing it over the log he liked to sit on.

It was a really nice blanket.

Back from the river, still slightly damp and shivering in his tshirt, Trowa crawled into his tent for a nap.  He’d ruined two pairs of shorts and a t shirt already, and neither night the man who was - what stalking him? - had bothered to show up before the moon rose anyway.  Trowa would be damned if he was going to ruin  _ all _ his clothes like this.  Most of the time he stripped down before moonrise for just such an occasion, and he figured he could probably just resume his usual habits at this rate.

He only had one pair of shorts left to wear home, anyway.

*

Quatre left the house with a jaunty step, having finally managed to wake up at a halfway decent hour. If he kept up a good pace, he could time it  _ just  _ right to arrive at the camp before the moon rose, giving him a moment to catch the hiker’s name, and step away to give the poor man some privacy.

Considering it sounded as bad as it looked, he skipped his normal meal, assuming that the werewolf would want to go hunting again tonight, and having refused him twice, it would be rude to do so a third time.

He didn’t want to give him the impression that Quatre was a snob or something.

As he neared the camp, he checked the sky one more time and consulted his inner clock. Confirming his timing, he once again straightened his shirt and fluffed his hair. Third time’s the charm.

Quatre stepped into the clearing confidently, and promptly tripped over his own feet as his eyes landed on the broad, ripped, and very  _ naked _ backside of the hiker. His jaw dropped as he stared, completely forgetting the first and second reasons why he had arrived early at all. 

The other man turned his head, hearing Quatre’s stumbling steps, and sighed.  “Of course you’re here early  _ tonight _ .”

If he had a heartbeat, he was sure it would have skipped, the man’s rich voice doing all sorts of things he wasn’t prepared for.

Before he could reply, moonlight swept into the camp, and Quatre was immediately reminded of his second reason for arriving early.

* 

Trowa shook himself hard, and stretched.  The quatre was here already! Just in time.  He trotted over and grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled, dragging the not human to his log, nudging him over to the seat.

The quatre sat with a laugh, and Trowa shoved his face in all his favorite places, getting a good sniff.  The not-human only smelled not human today. Not fox. Stupid foxes. Not rabbit either.

Trowa fairly pranced with happiness.  He jumped, putting his paws carefully on the quatre’s shoulders to stare at him for a moment, tongue lolling.  When he was satisfied the not human was going to stay put, he leapt down and made a beeline for the trees.

He knew where the fox was.  Gonna go get the fox.

Behind him, he heard the tell-tale shifting of the quatre and he raced back, yanking him back down by his shirt with his teeth.

“Whoa! I’m sorry, I’m not going anywhere. I just wanted to look around. I promise!”

Trowa watched him for a moment longer before bounding off into the woods.  

If the quatre left this time, Trowa was going to find him and make him eat the fox.

Stupid quatre.

*

Quatre warily watched the woods where the wolf had disappeared, half expecting him to come running to drag him back to the log. He took a tentative step, bracing for 100 pounds of disgruntled dog, then relaxed when nothing came back for him.

He took his time exploring the small camp, assuming the wolf would return after he had his fill of hunting. Since he had been oh-so-wonderfully distracted, he had completely forgotten to ask the hiker’s name, so it was back to Plan A.

Last night’s short venture hadn’t revealed much, only that the hiker kept his camp clean and most likely kept everything safe inside the tent. He crouched at the tent’s entrance, unzipping it, then leaned inside. He spotted a backpack and pulled it out, sitting back on the ground as he settled it in his lap.

For the most part, it was the standard hiking fare with no distinctive features, but there were a few key chains hanging from the zippers. He grabbed one, chuckling at the brightly colored rabbit’s foot, then dropped it for what looked like dog tags. He turned the bag for a better look, and snorted again.

Not only was he good looking, it looked like he had a sense of humor.

The dog tags turned out to be  _ actual _ dog tags, bone shaped and stamped with a name, ‘Remus’.

Quatre grinned to himself, satisfied with his search. He replaced the bag and zipped up the tent before returning to the log.

*

Trowa got the stupid fox.  The stupid fox was squirmy and it smelled just as bad as Trowa remembered.

Stupid foxes.

But the quatre liked foxes, Trowa  _ thought _ , so it was a stupid fox.

When the bushy tail hit him in the face for the third time, Trowa growled around the mouthful of fox neck, and the fox went limp.

Stupid, stinky foxes.

He padded into the campsite, relieved to find the quatre sitting on the log where he left him, looking very satisfied with himself.  Trowa made a noise that got the not-human’s attention and then he walked over and dropped the fox in the quatre’s lap.

It immediately made a bid for freedom, but Trowa was faster.

Stupid fox.

When he shoved it at the quatre the next time he was careful not to let it go until the not human had his hands on it.

Rabbits were easier.  And smelled better. Trowa sneezed, ridding his nostrils of the fox-smell, and laid down on the ground at the quatre’s feet expectantly.

“Thank you! How did you know I liked foxes? They’re my favorite, well, second favorite, but I try not to indulge too much.”

Ugh.  How could foxes be a favorite?  They smelled funny. What was first favorite? Trowa liked rabbits.  Stupid and tasty and  _ fat _ .  Best food.

As he watched, the quatre brought the fox - stupid, stinky - to his face, almost like he was smelling it and  _ ugh _ , and then the fox went limp for a minute and Trowa thought the quatre was going to eat the fox, but then he put the fox down and gave it a little pat, and it wandered away.  Slowly.

Trowa leaped to his feet - foxes were sneaky, you couldn’t let them  _ run away _ .  

“It’s okay! I ate my fill, unless you wanted it too.”

Turning back to the not human, Trowa eyed him in confusion.  Shifting closer, he shoved his face into the quatre’s chest and took a deep sniff.

Ugh, the fox smell was back.

Fine.

But he wasn’t going to chase it down again.

*

Quatre huffed a laugh, sure that the were was sulking. He kept glancing back towards the woods, no doubt debating whether to just chase the poor thing down and eat it. He had spent a decent amount of time hunting it down for him, but Quatre couldn’t find it in him to let the fox go only to have it run down again.

Instead, he grabbed the blanket that had been folded over the log and tossed it out, laying it on the ground.

“Why don’t we do something better than hunting? I’ll rub your belly if you answer some questions for me. Sound good?”

The wolf immediately pounced on the blanket, rolling around before sitting up, watching him expectantly. Quatre plopped down on the blanket next to him and rubbed his head.

“Okay, first question. Is your name Remus?”

*

Trowa cocked his head at the quatre.  What was this guy’s deal? He snorted, hiding his nose under his paws.

_ Remus _ .

As if.

The quatre laughed, scratching his ears until he pulled his nose out again. 

“Okay, so not Remus, but since I don’t have anything else to go with, that’s what I’m going to call you, unless,” he trailed off, smirking, and Trowa perked his ears up. “You would prefer Moon Moon.”

Trowa stretched out and nipped the hand that  _ wasn’t _ scratching behind his ears.  Not too hard, but hard enough to mean business.

“Remus it is! Next question, and this is only because I haven’t met a werewolf before, not up close or anything, and I’m sorry if this is offensive, and you can tell me if it is or not answer or just bite me or something-”

Trowa nudged his way under the quatre’s arm, shoving his nose into his armpit and snorting until the other man laughed.  Shut up and ask already. Stupid not-human. 

“Sorry! I tend to ramble when I get nervous. Okay, well, are you- Are you a normal sized werewolf? Like, are you on the larger side or smaller or does it matter? Because you’re bigger than other wolves I’ve seen but not as big as the bears around here.”

Trowa snorted again.  He was best wolf. Smartest.  Biggest. Caught the fox. 

The quatre was dumber than he thought.

But smelled good, except the fox.

He draped himself over the quatre’s lap and chest.  Maybe he just couldn’t see how big Trowa was?

“Okay, you’re definitely heavy. Must be all those muscles.”

Satisfied, Trowa moved again, shuffling until only his head was in the not-human’s lap and he was back to getting his ears scratched.  It was nice. A good way to sleep.

*

Quatre settled back against the log, slowly smoothing his hand over Remus’s head, a slight smile on his face. He could get used to this. It was comforting to have someone around, the company a welcome change, despite the communication barrier.

He felt the wolf sigh heavily and shift in his lap, settling deeper into sleep, and Quatre had a pang of regret.

He couldn’t stay.

He gently eased his way out from under Remus’s head, lifting it enough to slide his legs free, then laid him down completely. He stood up and stretched, heaving a sigh as he watched the large wolf sleep.

Tomorrow, he would bring him something as a thank you. And he would get there before moonrise.

With one final glance, Quatre turned and left.

*

Trowa had given up on dignity.  

His wolf self was now hunting for a  _ vampire _ .  He was  _ courting _ a vampire.  The vampire even seemed to get it, bringing gifts in return.

A vampire.  

Trowa shook his head.

Maybe the wolf didn’t recognize that, but Trowa caught on pretty quickly. What with the night time visits and the weird smells and the glinty-eyes.  And apparently the wolf had decided he  _ liked _ the vampire, which was dumb, but what could you do.  The wolf was picky. The vampire seemed friendly and also, Trowa should probably get used to calling the guy Quatre because that was his  _ name, _ not that the wolf seemed to understand that.

But he drew the line at foxes.  

Quatre would have to find a new favorite food, because the smell was  _ still _ lodged in his nostrils.

And speaking of dignity, Trowa was at least dressed this time.  In a ratty pair of jeans he’d dug out of the bottom of his backpack, and a sweatshirt, because last night had been the last night of the full moon, so hopefully he could have a little chat with the overly friendly and extremely nosey vampire.

_ Remus _ .

Fucking Duo and his stupid fucking jokes.

Well not literally.  They’d tried that, but it hadn’t really worked out, once Duo had met Heero.  He and Trowa were best friends, and the sex was good, but Duo had fallen hard and fast for the recalcitrant computer programmer, and Trowa had exited gracefully, before Duo had had to do that  _ thing _ where he made the sad face and, just, no.

It was easier to just be friends with the guy.

Anyway.

So now here Trowa was, poking at his campfire, waiting on the sun to finally set and to see if his friendly neighborhood undead sort-of boyfriend was going to show up for the night.

At least this time Trowa wasn’t fucking naked.

Although, on reflection, that might not be a bad thing.

*

For some reason, this time, Quatre was nervous. It wasn’t like anything about tonight was different, aside from him deciding to bring a meal with him. He spent way more time than usual hunting for the perfect rabbit, one that was bigger than his normal fare. Remus had seemed to favor the fatter ones. Maybe they tasted better than the skinny ones. 

More meat or something.

He shoved the thought aside as he walked the now familiar trail, ignoring the smell of the rabbit in his grip as best he could.

He would not nibble on the food before giving it to Remus. That was just rude.

As the camp came into view, he braced himself for a repeat of the night before, and mentally prepared himself for an eyeful. He wasn’t going to stare like a teenager, no matter how good he looked. 

Unfortunately, Remus was fully clothed in a pair of jeans that hugged him  _ just _ right, and a large sweatshirt. He looked incredibly cozy.

“Hey! I’m glad I caught you,” Quatre smiled brightly as Remus turned around. “I brought you something to eat, you know, afterwards, so I’ll just leave you to it, okay?” Quatre turned around, humming softly to himself, hoping it would be enough to drown out the awful sounds.

“I take it you don’t know much about werewolves,” the same deep voice from the previous night rumbled, sounding amused.

Quatre stayed where he was, certain that at any point, his companion would start shifting. “I read a bit, but my collection is spotty at best. You don’t have to hold it off on my account.” He waved over his shoulder with his free hand. “Go ahead and get it over with.”

“Yeah, well, if you’re waiting for me to shift you have roughly 28 days to go.”

Quatre whirled around, staring first at Remus, then at the moon. He squinted until he could see the tiny darkened sliver along its edge. It was no longer a full moon.

“Oh. So I take it you won’t want this then?” He held up the squirming rabbit with a shrug.

“I mean, I could show you how to skin it and cook it over a fire, but I have protein bars in my bag that are probably easier, and I don’t really get the impression you’d be interested in a cooked rabbit.”  The other man smirked at him.

Quatre blanched at the suggestion. “Yeah, I’ll pass on that.” He glanced at the rabbit, debating for a moment, then turned back to him.

“I’ll be right back.”

He jogged out of the campsite, ducking around a tree, then took a quick bite, just enough to keep him satisfied, then let the rabbit go. He wiped his mouth, taking his time to make sure he didn’t have anything stuck in his teeth, then went back to the camp.

Remus was standing where he left him with something akin to amusement on his face, arms crossed loosely across his chest.

Quatre strolled up to him, aiming for nonchalance. “So, Remus-”

“Trowa.”

Quatre blinked, caught off guard by the sharp reply. “Um,”

“That's not my name, it's my friend's idea of a stupid joke and you know what, maybe you could eat  _ him _ .” He finished with a shrug, eyeing Quatre. 

“I don’t- Where did you- I don’t  _ eat _ people!” Quatre sputtered, suddenly indignant. “That kind of thing is  _ personal _ ! You’re in their space, and that’s a part of a person and why would you say that?”

“So that’s a no?”

Quatre gaped at him.

Trowa shrugged. “It was worth a shot. You probably wouldn’t like him anyway. He’d probably taste bitter, all bottled up emotions, like a human Molotov cocktail, just waiting to explode.”

Quatre sighed, and tried to get back on track.  “Your name is Trowa,” he said slowly, deliberately avoiding any more talk of eating people.

The taller man arched an eyebrow. “Yes.  And yours is Quatre. And apparently we’re dating.”

Quatre immediately regretted having that snack, as he was still in that brief window where he could actually blush, and of course it had to be when he was standing just a few feet away from the guy he had been flirting with for the past week.

“Oh, yeah, you see, that’s if you want to,” he stammered. “It’s kind of hard to gauge that sort of thing when you’re trying to interpret wolf-speak or whatever.”

“According to my wolf, we are very much dating, if the constant gifts of food were any hint.” Trowa quirked a grin. “You kind of sealed the deal when you brought food in return.  The blanket was a nice touch, though.”

Quatre gripped his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels as he looked away. “I’m glad you liked it,” he mumbled. “But if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine. I mean, I did kind of stalk you, but you smelled different, and then you weren’t scared of anything when I was trying to scare you, and normally that kind of thing works, but then I decided to just  _ talk _ to you and then you were a wolf-”

“Quatre.”

He snapped his jaw shut, nearly biting his tongue. “Sorry, sorry. Rambling.”

Trowa chuckled, stepping closer as he lowered his arms. “I kind of like that about you,” he said.

Quatre looked up quickly, surprised to find him so close. “That’s, um, nice of you to say.”

“If you’d like, I have a few more days left in my vacation. We could spend them getting to know each other,” Trowa purred, and Quatre gulped, squeezing his hands together.

“Sure,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“There’s just a couple things I want to clear up,” Trowa took another step, leaning slightly over him. Quatre jerked a quick nod. “One, there will be no more foxes allowed in the camp, for any reason.”

Quatre scoffed. “What? Why not?”

“Various reasons I won’t get into,” Trowa dismissed. “And two.” He leaned in close, his lips just barely brushing Quatre’s ear. “I’m on the  _ larger _ end of the spectrum.”


End file.
